


let me in

by tangerine (arte)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 11x03, Coda, Episode Tag, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Season/Series 11
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-23
Updated: 2015-10-23
Packaged: 2018-04-27 16:04:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5055064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arte/pseuds/tangerine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You know it's fucked up that you're offering your pain as an apology.</p><p>11x03 Coda fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	let me in

You know it's fucked up that you're offering your pain as an apology. It'd be fucked up in any normal situation, but since Cas is the one who you're trying to make things up for and since this is only making him more upset than anything, it's like you set out to jump into a fucked up merry-go-round and decided to take a wild ride 'till the kingdom comes. 

Still, you can't let Cas heal you. There are still piles of books in the library, only pushed aside to the corner in a hasty attempt to make a room, and they remind you that Cas had to piece himself together alone after you beat him bloody and threatened to kill him. 

You don't get to take a short cut in the face of that. You don't get to make apologies in a few fumbling words. Because if you say you're sorry, you know what Cas would say. You can practically see it because that's what Cas does every single time. His voice would go deep and soft and sincere. He'd say, "It was the Mark. It wasn't your fault. I'm okay," in an instant and you don't deserve to be forgiven that easily.

You press the ice pack into your face harder than you need to because Cas is trying not to look miserable and failing. 

"Okay, come on," you say, coming to a decision. You stand up with ice pack in your hand. You look at Cas and tilt your head toward the door. Cas looks at you and then at Sam, doing that squinty confused face.

"Me?" Cas asks, pointing at himself.

Dork.

You roll your eyes. It's that or smiling like an idiot. 

"Yeah, you. Come on."

You think Cas is communicating silently with Sam. You can't tell for sure because you're trying real hard not to look anywhere near your brother. You don't want to lose your nerve. 

When Cas finally stands up, you turn and walk toward your room.

Well, not to your room. To the bathroom near your room. You're not thinking about taking Cas into your room. Yes, you're thinking about it, but not _thinking_ about it.

...Shut up.

You go in to the bathroom and pick up the oinment from the shelve. Cas is waiting for you in the corridor, shuffling awkwardly. You throw the jar at Cas. You feel a little thrill go through you as he catches it neatly in his hands.

"What's this?" Cas asks even as he's turning the jar this way and that in his hands.

"Ointment for bruises," you shrug. "I was thinking I could use some." You stop. You thought this was a good idea, but now that you're about to put it into words, it seems stupid. Unfortunately, Cas already has the jar. You have no choice but to keep on. Your heart quickens. "Maybe you can help," you say it almost like a question.

Cas' eyes widen. He seems to recognize that this is your compromise, between your need to suffer and his need to help you.

"Yes, of course," he says, tightening his grip on the jar. He stands taller, shoulders straight and eyes determined. One would think he'd been tasked to guard the holy grail or something. It does nothing to help your heart slow down. 

Cas opens the jar, as if he's going to heal you right here in the corridor, then pauses. 

"Would you like to sit down for this?" 

It belatedly occurs to you that Cas would have to touch your face to put on the ointment. Sitting down seems like a very good option all of a sudden.

"Yeah, sure," you say. 

Cas turns and opens the door to your room. You swallow. It's not like Cas had never been to your room, yet this feels different. The last time, Cas knocked. This time, he's just stepping right in. Of course, you're right behind him so he doesn't need to ask for further permission, but still. 

It feels like he knows he belongs here.

"Dean?"

You jerk your head up at the voice. Cas is sitting on the edge of the bed and looking at you expectantly. 

"Yeah, sorry. Zoned out," you ramble as you close the door and sit beside Cas. 

Your stomach flutters as he puts down the lid and scoops a general amount of ointment on his finger. His left hand moves to steady your face, and a jolt goes through you because his hand is so warm. You remember that this is what normal touch is supposed to be feel like. This is what skin on skin contact feels like when your inside isn't turning into ice because the other person in your hand isn't about to die and leave you forever.

You close your eyes. Cas brushes the ointment across your left cheek, fingers feather-like. You tought the treatment would hurt. In your experience, you eventually get to poke your wound when you're putting anything on it. With Cas, the pressure is almost negligible. 

You crack your eyes open and see Cas staring down at the bruises with absolute concentration. You think this is what archaeologists do when they find some millennia old artifacts and brush them with the tiniest brush in their disposal.

"Cas, it's going to take forever at this rate," you complain, trying to turn your face away. 

"We've got time," Cas says. He cups your face to tilt it back to its original position. "Now hold still."

You made a mistake, you realize as he continues to tend you like his life depends on it. You thought this was better than having Cas fix you up magically, that ointment or not, your pain would last.

You were wrong. 

Yes, your bruises still hurt but what Cas is doing, it feels like a reward. At least the Grace was quick. This lingering, concerned touch, it feels like a whispered _It's going to be okay,_ and _I'm here for you_ and _You matter._

And maybe, you already knew that it would feel like this. Maybe, you were kidding yourself when you told yourself that this was a compromise. Maybe, you wanted Cas to touch you exactly like this because you were so afraid that Rowena's spell had left him dead, then after his eyes opened, you were scared shitless that it had left him vacant, that what made him Cas had been lost for ever. Maybe, you needed him to ground you and make sure that everything was real and not a dream you made up.

Maybe, you are manipulating Cas into staying because you remember walking out of the crypt alone, with not a bruise on your person, with no evidence that Cas had even been there with you.

Jesus fuck. You are a real piece of work. 

You don't deserve this.

"Stop," you croak.

Cas stops. 

"Dean?" He calls worriedly. "Did I hurt you?"

You choke. "Holy shit, Cas, you couldn't have cracked an egg with what you were doing." 

"That's ..good, isn't it?" Cas asks uncertainly. 

"This was supposed to hurt."

Cas tenses and lets out a shaky breath. "Please don't make me hurt you, Dean," he says, pained.

You bite your lips. You knew you were gonna mess up. You forgot that this was intended to help Cas, too. You want to hurt, but you don't want to heap more trauma on Cas. You think this would be a whole lot easier if Cas would lash out at you for what you did to him. Instead, he looks more miserable with your minor injury than with his own cracked bones.

"You're such a martyr," the words slip out of your mouth without your input.

Cas raises his brow. "I believe that's my line."

You don't think so.

"I left you bleeding on the floor."

"You gave me the blanket," Cas retorts, as if that's supposed to make a good defense.

You snort. "Fat lot of good it did."

Cas looks at you, blue eyes serious. "It did."

You don't feel worthy of the stare, the devotion. You close your eyes. Cas resumes his tending. 

Even when you think that Cas is done with putting ointment all over your left face, his touch lingers. 

"Let me watch over you," he whispers at last. 

You open your eyes. Cas looks afraid that you would say no. You don't like that you have the power to make Cas look like this. You don't like that when you punish yourself, Cas gets drag along the ride, too. You wish that Cas would leave you alone, but also don't. 

You wish that you could wrap Cas in a blanket and keep him safe and content forever.

"Let me," you say.

You pull him close.

**Author's Note:**

> Help. I still don't know what to do with all the feels.


End file.
